Pack, move, clean, store, promise my dad it wont be for long – check. Documents, consulate visits, passports, fending off the advances of the middle-aged consulate Romeo – check. Tenant, agent, insurance – check. Banks, bills, cards, credit limits, tax – check. Doctor, dentist, more insurances – check. Licenses, registration, promise my dad again it won’t be for long and to please start her up occasionally – check. Resign from work, lose my income – check. Butter up the relatives, brush up on my language skills, buy a laptop, a camera, learn how to use them, design a blog, starting writing – check, check, check. The past few months have been an exhausting blur of all these things and my brain is overloaded with bits of information that I hope I have processed correctly.
And so finally, I think I’m ready. There’s not much left to do except pack my bags and tidy up the room I’m living in at my brother’s house. I also have to say goodbye to my friends which I’ve already started to do and am finding quite difficult. The worst part about having leaving parties is that you always have such a good time you wonder why the hell you are leaving all these wonderful people behind in the first place. Especially when you’ve decided to go to a foreign place where you not only don’t know anyone, but you wont even be able to crack a joke or express your feelings without being totally misunderstood. Despite my reluctance to leave all the familiarity behind I am comforted in the knowledge that my friends will be silently holding my hand when I need it, and know even more so that they will also have a firm foot in the small of my back ready to give me a push when I’m reluctant to move forward.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. I just read somewhere that uprooting yourself to a new place is likened to death and divorce (it wasn’t a good confidence booster). But I am also filled with so much excitement about what is around the corner – a trillion new sights, smells, experiences and emotions to look forward to. I know I’ve built a romantic picture in my mind of what it might be like to live in Italy, and I’m certain most of it will probably never turn out the way I imagined, but I know too that I’m in for one hell of crazy ride, and I’ve never been more ready to get on board.